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The sonnets, triumphs, and other poems of Petrarch

SONNET XCVI.

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Quelle pietose rime, in ch' io m' accorsi.

TO ANTONIO OF FERRARA, WHO, IN A POEM, HAD LAMENTED PETRARCH'S SUPPOSED DEATH.

Those pious lines wherein are finely met Proofs of high genius and a spirit kind, Had so much influence on my grateful mind That instantly in hand my pen I set To tell you that death's final blow—which yet Shall me and every mortal surely find— I have not felt, though I, too, nearly join'd The confines of his realm without regret; But I turn'd back again because I read Writ o'er the threshold that the time to me Of life predestinate not all was fled, Though its last day and hour I could not see. Then once more let your sad heart comfort know, And love the living worth which dead it honour'd so. Macgregor.

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